


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #72

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [75]
Category: Glee, klaine - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Crema verse, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous ask: I don't know if you're still taking prompts, but if you are I have one :) I'd love to see how Kurt and Blaine start reacting to fame. Maybe like the first time Kurt is mentioned in a magazine, or the opening night of a musical Blaine wrote the music for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #72

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt is three years old. I don't even know how to feel about that.

“I don’t have to be here,” Blaine protests weakly and his stomach clenches with nervous anticipation once again.

 

“Yes, you do,” Kurt replies kindly.

 

“I really don’t.”

 

The hired car is stopped two blocks away from the theatre and Blaine is sweating in his new suit, crafted, of course, by Kurt’s loving hands.

 

Tonight is opening night.  The show has been in previews for two weeks and already thousands of people have seen it, but tonight is the night the critics will be there.  And the press.  And celebrities. Tonight is the night the great, sometimes cruel eye of Broadway will be focused on _his_ show, highlighting every crack, every flaw, every misstep in the production.  Blaine is terrified.

 

He has studiously avoided the theatre forums and comment sections on articles about the show; he doesn’t want to know what people are saying.  It’s going to be hard enough to walk into the theater this evening – he couldn’t possibly go in knowing people hated it.  Or, perhaps worse, go in with the expectation that they loved it. It doesn’t matter that _he_ loves the show; it doesn’t matter that every note of the score pulled from his fingers and his soul over the last year felt like the right ones.  He’s still afraid; a bomb of a show now could kill his career before it ever truly starts.

 

“Everyone else is here,” Blaine says, staring out of the tinted window.  Up ahead, the lights of the marquee are bright against the dark sky, as are the flashes of professional cameras.  The red carpet awaits.  “They can handle press.  I don’t have to. No one wants to talk to the music guy.  They want the stars.  And the director.  I didn’t even write the lyrics.  I don’t _have_ to be here.”

 

Kurt’s hands find his where he’s fisted the fabric of his dress pants at the thigh.  “You’re wrinkling your new suit, dear,” he chides, unclenching Blaine’s fingers and cupping his hands in his own.  “And it’s a _musical_.  I promise you they’re going to want to talk to the music man.”

 

Blaine snorts despite his shaking nerves. “That was terrible.”

 

“It was perfect.”

 

The warmth of Kurt’s hands and the familiar touch of his skin soothes Blaine.  He can feel the cool edge of Kurt’s wedding ring and the rougher patch on the inside of his knuckle where his pencil always rests when he sketches his designs. Blaine loves these hands.

 

“You’ve done this before,” Kurt says, rubbing his thumb against the back of Blaine’s hand in small circles, loosening the tension. “My shows and parties and all those stupid events we’ve gone to.”

 

“That was different.”

 

“How so?”

 

Blaine looks away from the window to Kurt. His husband’s eyes are dark in the dim space, illuminated in turn by the headlights of passing cars and the ever-glowing lights of the theatre district.  His heart feels full and content at every sight of him.

 

“Because it was for you,” Blaine says. “I’d do anything for you.”

 

Emotions Blaine still cannot put exact and finite name to flicker across Kurt’s fine features: falling adoration, amused disbelief, bright happiness.  And love.  Always that.

  
Kurt kisses him then, instead of saying anything.  A slow kiss that tastes of the wine they had at home before getting into the car, and of the years growing deeper between them. Blaine melts into it, sinking into the leather seats as his hands find the achingly familiar places of Kurt’s jaw. He’s always found exquisite comfort and serenity in the spaces Kurt makes for him: his hands, his arms, his mouth, his heart.  Ever since those first shivering, heady days when he had no idea what he was doing or where this was going.

 

“I’d do the same for you, you know,” Kurt whispers against the curve of Blaine’s mouth.  “Whatever you want.  I can take you home; we can leave.  We’ve both seen the show, after all.”

 

Blaine closes his eyes and presses his forehead against the hinge of Kurt’s jaw, inhaling the warmth of his skin and the sharpness of his cologne.  He will always be grateful for this man.

 

“We can skip the red carpet,” Kurt offers. “Sneak in through the back, like we did for Cooper’s last premiere.”

 

Blaine grins.  “That was fun.”  He kisses Kurt’s neck and hears him sigh softly.  “No, we’ll go.  It is my first show, after all.  I only get one of these.”

 

Kurt’s hand finds his thigh and squeezes. “It is.  You should be proud.  I’m proud of you.”

 

Blaine’s heart thumps.  He is proud.  He’s spent more than a year of his life working on this musical, unsure if it would even make it past the script, the lab, the readings.  And when the show went out of town for its first true performances on front of real audiences, Blaine spent months fretting if would get panned or if it would just be ignored.  He worked himself into sleepless nights, worried if it was all too good to be true, if it would all fall apart before it was ever really completed.  But it didn’t. The show found people who believed in it and a home in a Broadway theatre, and somehow Blaine helped get it there. And he knows that it was Kurt’s tireless, endless support that helped him every step of the way to this moment.

 

“I only got here because of you,” Blaine says quietly, and he means it right down into his bones.  Kurt has become one of the reasons he does what he does.  Music comes to his fingertips when he touches Kurt’s skin, songs rise in his throat when he says Kurt’s name.  Every note he writes is bred of the life they’re building together. 

 

Kurt kisses him again, and again, and Blaine hears the _“I love you, you sap”_ in every one of them.

 

“All right,” Blaine says and he squares his shoulders. “I’m ready.”

 

“Let’s just walk from here,” Kurt says, both to Blaine and the driver, and opens the car door.  The cool night air rushes around Blaine and he’s grateful for it. But Kurt’s hand is warm as he reaches out and helps him out of the car, tugging him close once they’re on the sidewalk.

 

And he doesn’t hardly let go for the rest of the evening.


End file.
